I had a fantastic haul of presents representing, in various combinations, all the things I love best: cuddly animals, exotic booze, scooters, socks, Scottie dogs, aeroplanes, Doctor Who DVDs, the colours red and orange, and a Swatch watch. I even achieved my long-held ambition of finishing off the entire dish of roast potatoes. (It breaks my heart to see any end up in the food waste bin.) In addition, my dear pal organised her regular Boxing Day curry at the Wimborne Tandoori, where we all flee to grumble about our families for a couple of hours, and this morning I dropped in on kowarth and his folks.
I think most of us want our Christmases to stay exactly the same forever. Obviously mine is different to the way it was a few years ago, but some of the new ways are lovely.
For one thing, my mum's thatched cottage is like something out of a Christmas card, and it is delightful arriving in the dark on Christmas Eve to welcoming lights in the windows. Howard coming over for Christmas dinner, after my mum and I have opened our presents, is quickly becoming another tradition. Thanks to callmemadam for putting up with an extra mouth to feed (and our occasional friendly roughhousing).
My thoughts go out to all of you whose Christmases are not what they used to be, and especially to the too many of you for whom this is the first Christmas of things being different.